


Long Days Are Better Spent Together

by T_WolfXD



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, because it was the perfect opportunity, not canon whatsoever, read my tumblr for more info
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_WolfXD/pseuds/T_WolfXD
Summary: Brain: So, you do exactly 2 ships between these characters, right?Me: Yup.Brain: Because they've got so much unused potential and they're all you're ever gonna do, right?Me: Correct.Brain: ...But there are other possible combinations of these exact four, no?Me: Look, I've already decided I'm not heading down into Purplephone or Jeremike. They're fine, perfectly FINE, but I have strongly decided that I'm not interested. There's already so much and I'd much rather just focus on these 2 ships, end of story-Brain: But you've already imagined them as all being roommates before.Me: Wha-Brain: All four of them. Living together. In. The same house.Me:Brain: WhBrain: What if weBrain: What if we just-----And, so, here we are. A sweet little one-shot that I've barely had the chance to edit up given that I'm dealing with a ton of finals, so it'll probably be a little less quality than usual. But I hope you enjoy, since next week I'll be beginning something elseon christmasthat'll definitely be worth it!As usual, feel free to check out my tumblr if you haven't already: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fnaficsfordays
Relationships: Purple Guy/Mike Schmidt/Phone Guy/Jeremy Fitzgerald
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Long Days Are Better Spent Together

**Author's Note:**

> Brain: So, you do exactly 2 ships between these characters, right?  
> Me: Yup.  
> Brain: Because they've got so much unused potential and they're all you're ever gonna do, right?  
> Me: Correct.  
> Brain: ...But there are other possible combinations of these exact four, no?  
> Me: Look, I've already decided I'm not heading down into Purplephone or Jeremike. They're fine, perfectly FINE, but I have strongly decided that I'm not interested. There's already so much and I'd much rather just focus on these 2 ships, end of story-  
> Brain: But you've already imagined them as all being roommates before.  
> Me: Wha-  
> Brain: All four of them. Living together. In. The same house.  
> Me:  
> Brain: Wh  
> Brain: What if we  
> Brain: What if we just  
> \-----  
> And, so, here we are. A sweet little one-shot that I've barely had the chance to edit up given that I'm dealing with a ton of finals, so it'll probably be a little less quality than usual. But I hope you enjoy, since next week I'll be beginning something else _on christmas_ that'll definitely be worth it!  
> As usual, feel free to check out my tumblr if you haven't already: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fnaficsfordays

Michael dropped the duffel bag onto the floor with a resounding thump, the items inside clattering. With a groan, he tossed off his cap, the stiff felt material landing next to a large glass terrarium. Eyes trailing over the creature inside, his irritation drifted away, face perking up into a light smile at the sight of the shell inside.

“Hey, Bonbon.” He muttered with a tired sigh, reaching a hand in and stroking the smooth spiral about the size of his fist. There was no response, but calm slowly began to wash over him as he retracted his fingers. “Not feelin’ active today either, huh?”

A quiet series of crackling clicks further down the hall turned Michael’s attention away, regaining his pace through the rest of the house. As he approached the kitchen, floor hardening into tiles beneath his feet, a light hum began to float through the air, soft and cautious. It was as if they were afraid of extending their vocal chords to anyone beyond themself- but the thought only made a prickle of warmth come to his chest.

He turned the corner, smile widening at the person standing in front of the stove, fiddling with the heat knobs and placing down a large pan. The slight frown of concentration was clear on their face, spikes of blond hair standing upright on their head. Their eyes stayed fixed on the marble countertop even as he neared, steps barely audible over their humming.

At the last possible second, Michael brushed a hand over the tips of their hair, watching them stiffen. Their gaze snapped towards him, panic flaring up for a split second before dissipating with a sharp exhale. A snicker escaped him as they rolled their eyes, stifling a curse.

“Fucking- I _tell_ you not to sneak up on me.” Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, despite his glare falling short. His smirk only grew as he stood next to him, glancing at the ingredients on the table.

“Sure you do. What’s cooking?” Their shoulders brushed, hand drifting back up to his hair. “Or have you not decided yet?”

“...No.”

“Give it time, something’ll show up.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m too hungry yet anyways. Less the others are.”

“They’ll be hungry by the time this is done. It’s nearing dusk.” Scott bit his lip, barely seeming to notice his fingers running through the light tufts. “And no, we’re not doing takeout again. Vincent gets sick of chinese way too easily.”

“Wasn’t suggesting it, calm down.” He chuckled. Leaning in closer, Michael pressed his lips against his cheek for a split second, pulling away with a glimmer in his eyes. “Could ask Jeremy if he’s willing to help, he always sees ideas online.”

“And they always need ingredients we don’t have.” He murmured. But he could see the faint dusting of pink across his face, coloring his tan skin.

“I’m sure he’ll have something. Just go on, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. As long as Vince doesn’t tag along as well, the kitchen’ll stay intact.”

That got a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Believe me, I think we all know that too well.”

“It never happened again!” The sudden call carried through another hallway, indignant yet sparkling with amusement. A different giggle, soft and shy, followed it.

“Doesn’t mean we still don’t have a broken cabinet now!” Scott yelled back, rolling his eyes with a huff. “Christ.”

“I’ll go ask them what they want. Take a second or two.” Michael let his arm fall back down to his side, warmth still prickling inside as he walked towards the rest of the house. He pushed open a door, eyebrows raising as he glanced inside. "And _you_ know that _that's_ not entirely true."

"It was the only time it left _lasting_ damage! Sue me." Vincent threw up his hands from where he lay on the bed, silver eyes gleaming. "It's not like it wasn't a natural course of action, anyways."

"Barely."

"The point still stands."

Another giggle alerted him to the other person in the room, their head nested in the crook of his neck, curly hair flat against the pillow. Their arm was hugging him tightly, smile wide on their cheeks. "It was only a natural course of action because you got startled by the oven timer and dropped the knife."

"Hey! Could've been one of us instead of the countertop. I call it lucky." He threw his signature grin, pulling Jeremy closer. "Tables can't feel pain."

"I'm sure the table's glad to hear how little you appreciate its dutiful existence."

“Hush it.” He tossed a pillow at him, which he caught easily. “How was the shift?”

“Surprisingly menial. They only moved from the stage twice.” Michael sat down next to them on the bed, sinking down into the sheets with a sigh. “Mainly just had to deal with Foxy being twitchy, but not much.”

“How lovely it is to have just a single deranged furry animatronic chasing your boyfriend instead of several.” Vincent snorted.

“‘Chase’ would imply that I moved at all from the office.” He flicked his ear with a smirk. “And Jere, Scott’s starting dinner right now if you feel like giving suggestions.”

“Already?” He perked up from the mattress. “Ooh, did he have anything already planned?”

“If he did then I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Yeah, yeah… Oh! I could go ahead and show him the pasta bake I found!” Jeremy was already standing up, gaze glittering as he walked towards the doorway. “All it needs is some tomatoes, spinach, chicken…”

“Well, hopefully that one works out for once.” Vincent stared fondly after him, grin fading into something more relaxed. “One of these days we’ve gotta surprise him by getting all the ingredients for one of the super complicated ones.”

“Bold of you to assume Scott hasn’t thought of that already.” Michael leaned gladly into his caressing hand. “He definitely feels guilty that he’s only been able to do a few. Just you wait.”

“Jeremy can make _anyone_ feel guilty. Don’t you say that you can resist.”

“Never did.”

\-----

“You’re _sure_ that’s all the things we need.”

He crossed his arms up at him, dark brown eyes in a pouting glare. “I just checked the fridge! That’s it, and we have it all right here. Cheese, mayo, chicken, spinach, tomatoes, sauce, and dried pasta. They’re even the same shape!”

Scott hefted a sigh, feeling his face lift into a smile. “I guess for once we can make it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time.” He whined, swinging the refrigerator door shut. “Come on. It’s gonna take a little while.”

“Starting by boiling water?”

“You get water. I’m going to start frying the chicken.” Jeremy took out salt and pepper as well, letting the pantry swing shut with a foot. His fingers slid around neatly and nimbly, the seasonings speckling the meat. The fading sunlight fell across the cutting board, rays slicing on and around his arm as he worked, lips parted in a light concentration. “Make sure to add some salt to it too.”

He blinked, realizing the empty pot was still in his hands. Face flushing, Scott moved to fill it up, water pouring from the faucet.

Though he was more often than not in the kitchen for the others, he’d never felt completely comfortable with it. Never made anything completely from scratch, definitely, unless pancakes counted- but there wasn’t anything complex to _that_. Watching Jeremy’s swift movements in the orange glow from the window always got him too distracted on the rare occasions that they had everything necessary for a recipe- if either of the others were here right now, they’d have called it out without a second chance.

Scott suddenly stiffened as he began to pour in the salt, other hand freezing on the heat knob. Jeremy had leaned his head against his shoulder, still watching the chicken as it began to brown. He swallowed, forcing his hands to pick up the wooden spoon and start stirring. Neither moved at all.

Interesting, he thought that being in so many relationships was supposed to make him _better_ at not getting embarrassed.

“Water’s boiling.” His voice gently interrupted his thoughts.

“Ah.” He reached across the stove, scooping up the box. The pale yellow noodles began to pour into the water, dropping in with the slightest noise. But as he continued to stir, his mind drifted off again.

The feeling of his soft mess of hair leaving Scott’s shoulder brought him back again. Now he was cutting up the chicken and tomatoes, the metal blade flashing silver with each slice. “Pasta should be cooked by now, I think.”

“It looks like it.” He drained away the boiling water, blinking at the steam that rose up in the sink. Before he could do anything, another set of fingers were wounding around the handles for him, prying the curled pasta away and sliding them out into a glass dish.

Scott didn’t fight it, only watching Jeremy mix everything together. He flowed so smoothly on his own, wooden spoon folding around the streaks of white and red. It all swirled into a creamy sauce, coating around the individual pieces. At last, he put it in the oven, pushing the door shut as the timer started to beep quietly.

With a satisfied smile, Jeremy stood back, tasting the leftover sauce still coating the spoon. “Tastes as good as it looks.”

“Well, I don’t doubt it.”

“Wanna try?”

“I… sure-?”

Before Scott could say anything else, he set down the spoon, suddenly facing him fully. His chin tilted up just a tad, eyes closing as he leaned closer-

And his lips pressed against his own.

He pulled away only a moment later, letting out a small giggle at his stunned face. “So, how’s it taste?”

His mouth was dry, swallowing roughly at his glowing expression. “I-I…” A shaky breath. “G-Good. It… It was good.”

His small fingers wrapped around his arm, head nuzzling into his shoulder. “You smell like coconut.”

“T-Tried a different shampoo.” Why did they always make it so hard to stop stuttering? “...You still smell like vanilla.”

“Mhm, I’m glad. Which smells sweeter?”

“Whichever one you’re using.”

“Aw.” He pressed against him more, skin warm. “I would’ve liked to say the other way around, but I guess we’ll never know.”

Before he could respond with another flustered retort, the oven timer suddenly rang out. Jeremy stepped away, opening up the oven and sliding the baking dish out. “Looks delicious. Come on, let’s go get the others.”

“I- Wait, we’re bringing it with us-?”

“‘Course we are. Come on!”

With a resigned sigh, Scott picked up the dish, the warm stream wafting through the air. Jeremy was nearly skipping as walking towards the hallway, smile still wide. Just as they reached the room, it faded into a slight smirk, leaning into the doorway. “Really?”

“I just got home, give me a break.” Michael barely lifted his head up from where he lay on the bed, arms wrapped around Vincent. His eyes were still half shut. “M’ tired.”

“Well, dinner’s ready, so better scoot over.” Jeremy slipped underneath the sheets as well, curling up besides Michael. “You’re warm.”

“So are you.” Vincent ruffled his hair. His gaze flicked up towards where Scott was still standing, eyebrows raising. “Get over here and love us.”

“...I’m carrying a baking dish full of pasta.”

“Your point?”

“It’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, just set it down. We can eat right here.” Michael waved him over, starting to sit up on the mattress. “Not moving from this bed anyways.”

Rolling his eyes, he cleared away a relatively flat area, carefully placing it down. “Happy?”

“Almost.” Before he could move away, Vincent reached out a hand, fingers suddenly grasping around his tie and tugging him down. With an undignified yelp, he crashed onto the bed with them, barely aware of their laughter.

“Well, it’s not the first time we’ve gotten you into bed by the tie-”

“Shut it.” Scott flushed, crossing his arms. “Did we even bring utensils?”

“Right here.” Jeremy held up a couple of forks, grinning as he passed them out. “Come on. You love us.”

“You haven’t moved out yet.” Michael added, with a chuckle.

“Hmph… Maybe just a _little_.” But as he began to dig in, the warmth spread from his cheeks into his chest. _Or maybe a lot._


End file.
